


love like milk and honey

by project_ecto



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Universe, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life, Snippets, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25375858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/project_ecto/pseuds/project_ecto
Summary: They can be sweet.They can be made of loving gazes and gentle words, of reverent touches and soft sighs. Iwaizumi and Oikawa are a fire in their own right, but they didn’t forge love without their fair share of tenderness and affection. As for those who only see them by their constant bickering and near-violent arguments, well—they just don’t know any better. After all, the most intimate of moments are found in seclusion, tucked away in spaces built for two.Written for Iwaoi Fluff Week 2020 / 7 days / 7 drabbles
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 25
Kudos: 278
Collections: Iwaoi fluff week 2020





	1. from me to you

**Author's Note:**

> This is written for the week that's going on on [twitter](https://twitter.com/iwaoifluffweek) from 19 - 25 July! Please enjoy :)

**19 July**

**_lazy / ice cream / “look at me for a second”_ **

Schooldays without practice sees Oikawa in Iwaizumi’s room, homework laid out on the low table in front of them, ties draped somewhere to combat the heat, though the relief is minimal at best. The whirring of the electric fan accompanies them, occasionally flipping up the corners of their notes, and Oikawa laments that they’re not allowed to use the air-conditioning.

Iwa-chan on the other hand, doesn’t seem to mind. He’s poring over his math homework, eyebrows scrunched together as he works on a particularly pesky problem. Oikawa glances up from his own chemistry notes to regard him with vague interest, a loose hold on his pencil as he notices the definition of Iwaizumi’s arms, exposed by his rolled-up sleeves and bunched at his shoulders.

The humidity of the weather, the monotonous hum of the fan, this one chemistry concept he can’t seem to wrap his mind around, and now the distraction that Iwa-chan provides – aren’t they signs that it’s time for a break? There really isn’t much point in continuing anyway – too many things in the way of productivity.

The papers rustle as Oikawa pushes himself off the table to get up to his feet, drawing a reaction from Iwaizumi, who looks up long enough to catch the breezy smile on Oikawa’s face before he leaves the room. Iwaizumi returns to his homework wordlessly, Oikawa here often enough that he’s certain he’s rummaging through his kitchen or something.

True enough, the setter re-enters with an ice cream, long fingers wrapped around the wooden stick and lips sinking over the white chocolate coating. He returns to his seat across Iwaizumi, attention solely on his sweet treat until Iwaizumi breaks the silence with a, “Where’s mine?”

Oikawa blinks at his companion innocently. “You didn’t say you wanted one.”

Iwaizumi shoots him an unimpressed look. “Well I want one.”

“There’s no more left.”

The spiker’s expression goes even flatter. Shouldn’t he have said that earlier? He ignores the sight of Oikawa lapping at his ice cream to resume his homework.

Amused, Oikawa smiles into his ice cream, slipping his mouth over the hard coating to relish in the sweetness that melts around his tongue. He can’t be sure if Iwa-chan is deliberately ignoring him, but he’s never been too serious about homework before.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says lightly. “Are you mad I took the last ice cream?”

“No.”

Oikawa hums a reply and doesn’t press further. He does however, take his ice cream into his mouth, makes sure his lips are glazed with white chocolatey goodness, makes sure his tongue carries the lingering sweetness.

“Iwa-chan,” he says again, shuffling to sit adjacent from him. When Iwaizumi’s eyes don’t leave his notes, Oikawa adds with a little more insistence, “Look at me for a second.”

He does, and Oikawa closes in with the barest smirk on his face, pressing ice cream-coated lips to Iwaizumi’s dry ones. The setter feels him stiffen with the suddenness of it, but his mouth moves against his so gently, offers him a taste of summer sweetness that Iwaizumi relaxes and sighs his mouth open.

Oikawa peeks his tongue out to trace the seam of Iwaizumi’s lips, dips it into his mouth to spread the left over taste of ice cream across Iwaizumi’s tongue. It elicits an appreciative sound from the back of his throat, and he chases for a taste of Oikawa underneath all that sugar. A rolled-up sleeve unfolds and falls over his arm but neither of them notice.

Iwaizumi’s lips are wet and sweet by the time they part, curled into a satisfied smile that he tries to bite back. Oikawa holds his gaze with a playful glint in his hazel eyes and whispers against ice cream-smeared lips, “Did you think I wasn’t going to share it with you?”

Iwaizumi clicks his tongue in mild annoyance, but leans into Oikawa for another kiss anyway.

The summer sun is harsh, but their kisses are oh so merciful.


	2. absence and presence

**20 July**

_**birthday / moon** _

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says into his phone, a little breathless and a little buzzed. The get-together’s still going on in the restaurant, but Oikawa has stepped out for a bit to make his regular night calls with Iwaizumi, even though his teammates have gathered tonight to celebrate his birthday.

Their chatter and laughter carry out into the balcony, where the cool air caresses Oikawa’s already pink cheeks. The noise travels through the line, and Iwaizumi picks up on it with a smile, _“Hey, enjoying yourself?”_

“Yeah, we’re having _asado_ —barbeque,” Oikawa explains, leaning against the balcony railing to watch the pockets of people mingling on the cobbled streets below. Even this late into the night—almost midnight—the streets of San Juan are alive with a timeless charm. “I ate so much meat I think I’m going vegetarian for the next few days.”

 _“That’s nice…”_ Iwaizumi comments offhandedly, preoccupied with figuring out if he should make a turn at this street or the next to accord his full attention to Oikawa. He doesn’t bother trying to decipher the signs in foreign language, relying solely on what he remembers from Google maps. He hopes he makes it before midnight strikes.

“You’re not at home?” Oikawa wonders curiously, noticing the sound of a car whizzing by in the background of Iwaizumi’s line.

_“Not yet.”_

“Then I’ll keep you company until you are,” he chirps.

 _“Thanks, but don’t you want to get back to the party?”_ Iwaizumi asks, frankly a bit surprised to have received Oikawa’s call tonight with his teammates celebrating his birthday and when they’ve already Skyped in the morning. He cheers internally for making the correct turn before; he thinks he sees the sign of the restaurant up ahead.

“It’s not really a party…we’re just celebrating over _asado_ and drinks,” Oikawa replies. “And I’m just taking a break out here.”

_“Out?”_

“Just on the balcony,” he clarifies, lifting his head to the night sky. High against the black canvas, the moon hangs full and bright. It could be the alcohol in his bloodstream talking, but whatever it is, his veins thrum with a sentimentality that comes with spending his birthday without Iwaizumi. “The moon’s really round tonight. Do you see it?”

Along the cobbled streets, Iwaizumi looks up at the same picture, heart swelling with the knowledge of what’s to come. _“Yeah I see it.”_

There’s a pause on Oikawa’s line, interspersed with muffled laughter from inside.

“I miss you,” he confesses to the moon. “Can we Skype later?”

 _“We Skyped in the morning,”_ Iwaizumi chuckles, taking the stairs up two at a time.

“You know that’s different,” Oikawa sulks. “I want to see you. And it’s still my birthday in California so…”

 _“I have something better,”_ Iwaizumi says but before Oikawa can begin to press for more, he hears his name being called by one of his teammates.

“Ah—hold on,” he says, turning back into the restaurant to check what’s up. If it’s another round of drinks, he’s going to politely decline. He doesn’t want to be too tired for his Skype call later.

But it’s not another round of drinks. It’s not even their libero bursting into another Spanish song in the way he does when he’s had one too many drinks. In fact, it’s not anything Oikawa could ever expect, not how Iwa-chan stands before him sure and solid, not how he meets Oikawa’s eyes with a smug smile on his features.

The team’s opposite hitter has his arm draped over Iwaizumi’s shoulders, an indication of a collusion that managed to bring Iwaizumi across the sea to this very restaurant that serves one of the best chorizo, and where Oikawa is.

The final minutes before midnight happen in a blur. Oikawa surges forward with a cry of _‘Iwa-chan!’_ to engulf Iwaizumi in a hug that almost topples the both of them over. When there’s no mistake about the fullness of Iwaizumi’s body in his arms, Oikawa pulls away only to plant a kiss on his mouth, right in front of everyone in this restaurant, breathlessly laughing at Iwaizumi’s stunned face— _‘Sorry, I couldn’t help it! This is the best birthday present ever!’_ Someone hollers for Oikawa to introduce them and their conversations for the rest of the night are peppered with a mixture of English, Spanish and Japanese.

Later, with burning veins and brimming hearts, they make love in the dimly-lit solace of Oikawa’s one-bedroom apartment, showing each other how much they’ve missed this—these reverent touches and bolder actions—as the moon casts strips of pale moonlight over kiss-marked skin.


	3. stories under these sheets

**21 July**

_**domestic / chocolate / “can we stay here forever?”** _

Oikawa stirs awake with sleep still heavy in his bones, but that’s soon replaced by a sudden fluster when he rolls around in bed and realizes that Iwaizumi’s arm is not circled around his waist, nor is his warm body pressed up against his.

He sits up hastily, sheets pooling around his waist, and searches the room with bleary eyes for any sign of Iwaizumi’s presence because last night could not have been a dream. Iwa-chan surprising him during a birthday celebration with his CA teammates couldn’t have been a dream. Iwa-chan whispering against his skin last night and branding him with kisses and bruises _couldn’t have been a dream_. Oikawa searches for maybe a discarded shirt, or Iwaizumi’s backpack or—

Iwaizumi himself. The boy appears at the door with a steaming mug in his hands and Oikawa’s shoulders drop with a wave of relief.

“Why’d you leave me alone in bed?” he huffs, the petulance in his voice completely genuine.

Iwaizumi pads over to him, already in a t-shirt and shorts (something Oikawa does not appreciate when he was very much bare), and climbs into bed carefully to hand him the mug. “I made you hot chocolate.”

Oikawa raises an eyebrow at him, but takes the cup anyway, asking, “Is it still my birthday?”

A light chuckle rumbles out of Iwaizumi and Oikawa finds that it fills him with warmth that even the hot chocolate cannot match. “Got the chocolate powder from Cali. If you like it, I can bring more next time.”

“Thanks Iwa-chan,” he says appreciatively, liking the idea of ‘next time’. He sips at his hot chocolate, welcoming the sugary taste that spreads around his mouth. Iwaizumi sits by Oikawa’s blanket-covered legs, one of his legs brought towards him while the other is bent at the knee, supporting a lazy arm that reaches for Oikawa’s tousled hair, mussed from sleep and looking like Iwaizumi’s fingers belong in those locks of brown.

“What do you want for breakfast?” Iwaizumi asks, carding fingers through Oikawa’s hair and lightly scraping well-trimmed nails across his scalp. Oikawa hums at the gesture.

“Breakfast can wait. I want to cuddle,” he demands, putting away the hot chocolate on the nightstand. He pushes at Iwaizumi and pulls the covers over their bodies until the spiker’s propped up against the pillows, and settles his head in the crook of his neck, one arm wrapping around Iwaizumi’s torso and legs tangled between his.

Like this, comforted by the undeniable feel of Iwaizumi’s skin and muscles underneath his—so real and tangible—Oikawa’s months of yearning are sated. He buries his nose in the juncture of his neck to murmur, “Thank you for the hot chocolate, but please don’t let me wake up alone when you’re over. Makes me think last night was a dream.”

“I’m very much real and here,” Iwaizumi assures, tracing lines over the plane of Oikawa’s bare shoulders.

“That you are,” Oikawa agrees mirthfully, snuggling further into Iwaizumi’s embrace. Everything about him, about this—from the way they’re slotted against each other to their scent in the sheets—plants a seed of joy in Oikawa’s heart that blooms across his chest. God, he missed this so much he wonders how he could bear it in the first place. Oikawa sighs into the column of Iwaizumi’s neck, wishing, “Can we stay here forever?”

“Forever has to be two more days,” Iwaizumi tells him somewhat apologetically, dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “Sorry I can’t make it longer.”

So they can’t have forever, but Oikawa will take those two days—he’ll take every second of it and make it count.

“It’s okay. I’m just so happy you’re here,” he says softly, pulling away the slightest bit to glance at Iwaizumi’s profile. “What do you want to do?”

“Anything with you.”

“Hmm…” Oikawa ponders, sitting up and reaching for the hot chocolate as he catalogues the list of places he wants to bring Iwa-chan to, other than staying home to cuddle and going at it like rabbits. The movement slides the bedsheets further down his body, exposing the alluring V of his hips and all the tints of reds and purples and browns that pepper his skin below the waist.

The starkness of it catches Iwaizumi’s attention, hands shooting out to pull the sheets away to survey exactly how much his lack of control was imprinted on Oikawa’s skin. A lot, when he discovers that the bruises traverse his hips, blossoming over the flesh of his bum. Iwaizumi’s breath catches in his throat, and he mutters unbelievingly, “Shit, I did that?”

Oikawa arches a brow at him, nursing his drink and speaking with markedly less alarm in his voice, “Do you see anyone else in my bed this morning?”

“Very funny,” Iwaizumi says flatly, but his eyes soften to study his handiwork intently. He runs a careful thumb over the marks—the gentleness an irony of his roughness the night before—and it tickles. Glancing up to meet Oikawa’s mild-mannered eyes, he says sheepishly, “Looks painful. Sorry.”

“Don’t. Last night was honestly the best. I like it when Iwa-chan is little rough. These remind me that you were here, and that you were _very_ passionate,” Oikawa tells him earnestly, eyes smiling with mischievous delight. Iwa-chan will leave in two days, and all Oikawa will be left with is the sweater he leaves behind, the lingering scent in the pillows, the coloured impressions against paler skin. Iwa-chan’s the one visiting, but somehow he’s the one who leaves souvenirs for Oikawa. With coyness that gleams in his eyes, Oikawa whispers for more, “Leave me some more before you go?”

“I can do that.”


	4. between the waves and the crowd

**22 July**

_**hands / bonfire / “you’re kinda hot”** _

“Do you get hit on like that all the time?” Oikawa asks in amusement, referring to the incident a few moments ago when someone had practically walked up to Iwaizumi while they were finishing their cocktails at the drinks station to chat him up with a suggestive glint in his eyes and too little space between them. He had been speaking in English which Oikawa couldn’t catch, but the flirtatious lilt in his voice is all Oikawa needs to read the situation. It only took a few short replies from Iwaizumi before he slips his hand into Oikawa’s, pulling them away from unwanted advances and farther out onto the California beach – a clear signal that no, he was not available for a drink or a dance.

“Of course not,” Iwaizumi answers, fingers still laced with Oikawa’s as they stroll along the beach, the distant sound of crashing waves on one side and the distinct beat of EDM music drifting from the other. “This is a beach party, people are more…reckless and wild.”

“But that’s not the first time right?” Oikawa probes cheekily and when Iwaizumi simply shrugs in response, he finds that the knowledge of his boyfriend being the target of flirtatious attempts not once but multiple times does not alarm or upset him. In fact, he shares some strange sort of understanding with that. There’s blitheness and playfulness in his voice when he adds, “Can’t say I blame them. You are kinda hot. Have you seen your arms? And your jaw? And your body in general?”

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi retorts with mirthful exasperation.

Oikawa’s already properly curious, wondering how his Iwa-chan escapes from the bold intentions of these reckless and wild California boys and girls. “How do you deal with people hitting on you?” he asks coolly.

“I just tell them I’m taken.”

“And they back off just like that?” Oikawa presses on, sceptical.

“Most of the time.”

“What happens to the ones who don’t?”

“I tell them…” Iwaizumi begins mysteriously, kicking at the sand beneath their feet and facing Oikawa to offer him a teasing smirk. “That I only date people who are certified volleyball idiots, are irritatingly taller than me, and have a shitty personality.”

The setter considers his words with thoughtful nods, pursing his lips to hold back a smile of his own. “Very specific,” he banters.

“You’re welcome to apply,” Iwaizumi jokes. A group of college girls in swimsuits dashes past them, shrill laughter trailing in the wind.

“I think I already got the position,” Oikawa points out smugly, suddenly whirling around to stand face-to-face with Iwaizumi, a gleam reflecting in russet eyes. The orange light from the bonfire next to them paints his profile a warm shade of sunset which, interestingly enough, was the horizon’s view before the sky darkened not too long ago.

“I know what to get you for Christmas. A shirt—no, a tank top—” he rattles on, taking the chance to snake his hands up and over Iwaizumi’s arms, bare from the actual tank top he’s wearing. He squeezes his muscles playfully as he adds, “—with the words _‘Taken By’_ and then my face printed on the front. It can be your Monday attire, start the week right you know?”

“Gross,” Iwaizumi immediately retorts, although the grin on his features is endearing more than anything. Trust Oikawa Tooru to come up with ridiculous ideas like this.

“That’ll surely do the trick,” Oikawa finishes, allowing Iwaizumi to take him by the wrists, thumbs above his pulse. There’s something about this summer night—in the distant rush of a beach party, with the sea breeze caressing their sun-kissed skin, Oikawa flying hours to visit Iwaizumi in California—that makes them light-headed with quiet delight, eyes round with affection and easy smiles hanging off the edge of their lips.

“You jealous?” Iwaizumi teases.

“Jealous that they get to be in the same city as you? Absolutely,” Oikawa answers truthfully. Despite choosing their own paths, he will never not be envious of the people who don’t have to travel across the sea to meet Iwaizumi in the flesh, who are not separated by the span of thousands of kilometres and four hours. All he has are shared dreams and an unshakeable faith, and Oikawa is no amateur when it comes to making full use of what he has. “But jealous that you’re getting hit on? Not at all—they can hit on you all they want, but I’m pretty happy knowing that they’re wasting their time because you’re mine.”

There’s definitely something about this summer night—when they lace their fingers with each other’s and meet in a kiss—that ignites their hearts with fearlessness, embers flickering into the cool air, the sand coarse between their toes.


	5. cold treat, tight heat

**23 July**

_**awake / popsicle / “I need you”** _

The relative silence in Seijoh’s third gym is broken when Yuda and Hanamaki return with a mini cooler box in their arms. In a flurry of movement and cheers, the entire volleyball team scampers to the two of them in anticipation, save for their captain and vice-captain.

Yuda slaps Matsukawa’s eager hand away, retorting something about how he gets to choose last because he was too lazy to help them carry the boxes here. The rest of the boys crowd around the cooler boxes, reaching in to snatch their preferred flavour of popsicle before the good ones are all taken. Once in a while, the coaches treat the boys to something nice in recognition of their hard work and commendable attitudes. This time, they’ve rewarded them with flavoured popsicles, a much welcomed treat for the summer heat.

After practice when the sun was beginning to set, Yuda and Hanamaki went to retrieve their well-earned popsicles, now distributed among the Seijoh boys who lounged around the gym to enjoy their dessert. Away from their chatter and jokes, the team’s captain and vice-captain are seated cross-legged at the far end of the gym, backs leaning against the wall, and cooling off in the shadows the late afternoon sun casts in the court.

The team knows better than to bother them, always so fascinated with the bond between their setter and ace, especially when said setter has his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder, clearly in a slumber that even their prior ruckus did not interrupt. Iwaizumi lets him use his shoulder as a pillow, seemingly unconcerned as he scrolls through his phone with his earpiece in. Hanamaki ambles over to them with a lazy smile, the wrapper crinkling in his hand when he holds out a popsicle for Iwaizumi, who takes an earbud out.

“Here’s yours. We’ll save one for sleeping beauty over there,” he quips.

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi says gratefully, taking it from the fellow spiker who leaves them be to join Yuda and Matsukawa.

Oikawa chooses this time to rouse from his sleep, shifting in his seat and rubbing his cheek into Iwaizumi’s shoulder drowsily. In a mischievous gesture, Iwaizumi presses the cold wrapper against Oikawa’s other cheek, earning him a yelp and jolting him awake.

“Iwa-chan?” he murmurs in a daze, eyebrows drawn together in confusion and palm reaching up to wipe the droplets of water off his face.

“Had a good nap?” Iwaizumi asks mild-manneredly.

Instead of answering, Oikawa stares at the bright blue wrapper in Iwaizumi’s hand. “What’s this?”

“Popsicle. Treat from the coaches,” he says, jogging his memory.

“Oh yeah. S’this mine?”

“You can have it if you want. I’ll take another one later,” he offers, and Oikawa accepts it wordlessly. If he finds that his setter—still half in a slumber—is adorable in his subdued state, he keeps it to himself.

“How long was I sleeping for?” Oikawa asks, hands in his lap.

“Fifteen minutes?”

“You were here the whole time?”

“Kinda have to be with your head on my shoulder.”

“Thanks Iwa-chan,” he says quietly, looking down at his hands and fiddling with the wrapper. It makes a jarring sound in the stillness of their bubble. Iwaizumi’s attention returns to his phone, some workout video playing on the screen—Oikawa doesn’t really know, he’s not looking very intently. He lets a few seconds tick by and eventually decides to go for it, but it doesn’t mean he’s going to be so forthright about it. Side-eyeing his ace, Oikawa says hesitantly, “I kinda…have an issue here…”

Iwaizumi meets his eyes before saying anything, and the sheepish look Oikawa sports, on top of the rosiness in his cheeks that he has a feeling isn’t a result of today’s gruelling practice, sets him in a half-wary, half-concerned mood. “What?” he demands.

“You see…when I was asleep, I was having a dream…” Oikawa explains cautiously, eyes flitting everywhere but at Iwaizumi, who immediately glances down where the setter’s hands are deliberately placed over an unmistakable tent in his shorts. “—and you were in it, so this is kind of your fault…help me out? I need you—”

“Ugh, you are so gross!” Iwaizumi balks, more appalled at his partner’s audacity than he is disgusted. They’ve got themselves into something similar before and almost landed in deep trouble, did he conveniently forget about that? And what the hell was he doing—having inappropriate dreams in the gym, accusing Iwaizumi and suggesting that they settle it when everyone’s _still_ here? The gall—the cheek—the _nerve_ of his stupid, horny boyfriend.

“Eat your popsicle and cool down!” Iwaizumi shouts, a blush making its way up his neck, and throws his towel at Oikawa before stalking away. It drapes over his face and flattens his hair and Iwaizumi thinks he should use that to cover his hard-on instead of the damn popsicle.


	6. any other way would not do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one comes with some screenshots of iwaoi's twitter/text messages so see [here](https://twitter.com/project_ecto/status/1286516047470764032?s=20) for more context before you start. If you want to skip that, the context is that oikawa did the "i want a baby" challenge to iwa.
> 
> Side kuroken and tanakiyo.

**24 July**

_**baby / “stay with me” & “I’m here”** _

“So it’s just some Twitter challenge?” Iwaizumi asks when they’re lounging on the bed later that night. He only manages to find out more about Oikawa’s unexpected and bizarre message after coming home and getting ambushed by his boyfriend, falling into each other until they’re a mess of eager hands and nipping teeth in the bedroom.

“Yeah, Kuroo did it to Kozume first and Kozume said that they already have a cat,” Oikawa snickers, crossing his arms over Iwaizumi’s chest and propping his chin on top. “So I thought I’d try it too.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, settling a gentle hand over the top of Oikawa’s head to stroke his hair absentmindedly. “You need to spend less time on Twitter,” he remarks.

When he first received the message from Oikawa, his first response was scepticism. But knowing Oikawa and his tendencies to spring random shit like this on him because he saw it on the Internet, Iwaizumi had played along just to see what the setter was trying to pull. He should have thought as much, since it’s not like they could actually have a baby and even if they were to get a kid or something, it wouldn’t be a conversation they’d have over text.

Oikawa did mention that he was going to post Iwaizumi’s response on his private Twitter account. He only hopes he doesn’t tag him otherwise his notifications will blow up.

“You need to be less boring,” Oikawa counters childishly, abruptly kicking off to grab his phone from the nightstand like he just remembered something. “By the way, have you seen Tanaka’s new-born? He posted some pictures on Instagram, she’s sooo cute!”

He thumbs at his phone, pulling out Tanaka’s Instagram profile to show Iwaizumi the latest string of photos of his baby daughter – one of her rosy sleeping face, one with her mother Kiyoko and one with the three of them, Kiyoko holding her close to her chest and Tanaka wearing an expression of pure exhilaration beside them.

Iwaizumi vaguely recalls hearing the news through someone and had congratulated the Karasuno alumnus on Instagram, but he isn’t as active on social media as Oikawa is, so these pictures are new to him. He browses through them with mild interest and agrees that they’re delightful, but he can’t exactly say that the baby girl in Kiyoko’s arms is cute – she’s a new-born and looks like a blushing potato.

Oikawa retracts his hand and swipes through the rest of the photos himself, smiling at how domestic they look, building a family of their own and all. The knowledge that his friends and acquaintances are hitting milestones in life draws a wistful sigh from him.

“Doesn’t it make you want to have a kid too?” he wonders out loud.

“No,” is Iwaizumi’s answer, given without missing a beat. It clearly surprises Oikawa, who stares at him with puzzled wide eyes. Hastily, Iwaizumi tries to explain, averting his gaze, “I mean, I don’t wish we could have a kid, or that either of us were a girl or something.”

He sounds embarrassed for not catching his tone before. It’s not that he dislikes the thought of having a kid, but he never once looked at another couple—a father and a mother and their beloved child—and wished that he could have the same thing or that he could be born into different circumstances.

He holds Oikawa’s gaze to tell him with finality, “I like the way we are.”

Oikawa too, matches the certainty in his eyes and reaches out to take his hand in his, calloused and rough and _right_.

“I like the way we are too,” he smiles, leaning into Iwaizumi to leave nothing but an inch between their lips. Oikawa whispers the words into the space between them and guides them into Iwaizumi’s mouth. “Stay with me always okay?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” he murmurs, and seals the promise with a kiss.


	7. one for the reel, one for the world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note that this is based on the au where oikawa is playing for the Japanese team

**25 July**

_**kisses / camera / “I love you”** _

“Let’s go Iwa-chan, quick, I think I’m being followed by some tabloid journalist,” Oikawa says hurriedly as he pulls Iwaizumi away from the gymnasium where practice just ended. From the moment he exited the locker room, Oikawa had a niggling suspicion that someone was trailing him, confirmed when he heard the unmistakable click of a camera shutter. As a pro athlete proudly coined by the public as the prince of volleyball, being in front of the camera is common for him. And Oikawa’s perfectly capable of putting up a heart-capturing image on-screen with his natural flair, but when the cameras are peeking out from around the corner or poorly concealed behind nondescript objects, that’s where he draws the line. He does not appreciate these sneaky tactics by sneaky journalists trying to create a storm with the private information they steal from him.

“Oh,” Iwaizumi says, letting himself be dragged along by Oikawa until they’re out in the streets. It’s late enough that the streetlights create soft pools of light on the empty roads. While Oikawa checks their surroundings to make sure that they’ve lost the pesky journalist, Iwaizumi digs into his backpack for a cap he always carries around and tugs it on Oikawa’s head.

Oikawa ducks his head at the motion, slightly caught off-guard, but adjusts it comfortably and throws Iwaizumi a questioning look. “You know this doesn’t really work right? Since they would recognize you too, you being the team physician and all.”

The remark earns him an exasperated huff and Iwaizumi reaches behind to yank the hood of his jacket over his head, obscuring his face from any prying eyes. His response tickles Oikawa into a short laughter and he doesn’t resist the urge to steal a kiss from him.

It’s a small peck of the lips, stolen so quickly that Iwaizumi didn’t have time to react except to taunt, “Who’s being inconspicuous now?”

The setter counters with a grin and they make their way to the train station without holding hands, even though the empty streets usually offer them a rare kind of respite. Iwaizumi is well-aware of the attention his boyfriend receives from the media and fans so if they ever discover that the setter of Japan’s national volleyball team is in a long-time relationship with the team physician, they can say goodbye to their privacy. So they try to keep a low profile, as troublesome as it is.

“I’m quite tired of all this hiding and snooping,” Oikawa says suddenly and Iwaizumi can hear the pout in his voice.

“You want to give the media a scandal?” he jokes.

“It’s not a scandal!” Oikawa argues, turning his nose up at the idea of it. “We dated since high school and survived a long-distance relationship while chasing our dreams and found our way back to each other with volleyball being our red string of fate. It would be an epic love story if anything.”

Iwaizumi’s mouth quirks up in amusement. “You think you’re in a drama or something?”

“Well, I am my own main character, and you are my co-star,” Oikawa starts, turning to face Iwaizumi whose profile remains covered by his hood. “And if I could write our story…”

He tugs on Iwaizumi’s arm so that they’re looking at each other and teases, “I’d kiss you in the side-lines ( _‘gross,’_ he hears Iwaizumi try to hide it under barely-controlled laughter), propose to you on the court ( _‘oh my god shut up’_ ), tell you I love you in front of the cameras.”

“You just love the limelight too much,” Iwaizumi retorts, lightly pushing at Oikawa’s chest which seems to be closing in. They’re still outside, not yet in the privacy of their home where they can be bold and unapologetic, but the night is quiet and the world is asleep.

Oikawa shakes his head. “I love you more.”

At this rate, Iwaizumi doubts they’ll be able to keep this under wraps for long. Sometimes, he feels so full with all the emotions Oikawa Tooru puts in him, yearns to show the world how lucky he is, but tonight he settles for a private moment in the shadows, tonight he keeps their secret for one more night.

“I love you too,” he says, tugging on his cap to press a kiss to Oikawa’s lips, faces hidden by the hood of his jacket, away from the cameras for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone, that concludes my entries for iwaoi fluff week 2020! see you around?

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be posting these on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/project_ecto) as well.


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